


Stolen Slate

by ToothPasteCanyon (DannyFenton123)



Series: Transcendence AU [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence (Gravity Falls), Gen, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28202937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannyFenton123/pseuds/ToothPasteCanyon
Summary: As the years go on, Dipper finds the cultists summoning him are becoming increasingly obsessive, increasingly creepy. It had gone too far long before a group of them broke into the Mystery Shack and stole Mabel's memories, but now he has to get them back before they find out about Alcor the Dreambender's ultimate secret... and before Mabel gets too freaked out by the news that her brother has turned into a demon.
Series: Transcendence AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1472837
Comments: 7
Kudos: 31





	Stolen Slate

It was quiet, here. Quiet like a grave. Quiet, but not peaceful. The dust was still settling, the blood was still pooling, and Alcor the Dreambender stood still in the remains of yet another basement.

The light - it was out, had been blown out. One small shattered window tilted up to the moon revealed what it could not; revealed the scuffed up chalk dust in the air, the candles knocked over, the bodies piled up by a locked door - even the desperate nail-marks they’d made in the paint, it revealed those too.

It revealed Alcor, standing over the closest one. This one, nearer to the circle - had less time to get away, left less of a body to inspect. Still he could see a necklace glinting at him from the gristle; he picked it up, and frowned.

It was a symbol of the Dreambender, the Twin Star. An elaborate one, made of spelled silver that singed his hand a little as he held it. A lot of time and skill and money had gone into making this… and that was the problem, wasn’t it?

These Alcor cultists, they were getting sophisticated. They were getting dangerous. He still got those summons from people who were choosing him out of dozens of other demons, but now there were people dedicating their life to him, studying his every move, immortalising his every decision. The Alcor/Mizar stuff was only supposed to be an alias; the dumb twin star design he slapped on his public circles was something Mabel made in a night, but now it was taking on a whole new life before his eyes.

Alcor stared at the blood on the symbol before him, and knew there were people _worshipping_ him.

His face twisted, and he crumpled it it into a ball and threw it at the wall so hard it brought the roof down. The window was crushed under a slab of concrete, and Alcor stood still in the darkness, breathing.

Breathing.

Breathing.

In the distance, police sirens were beginning to cut through the quiet. He bared his teeth a little at that, then stepped back, stepped _away-_

Stepped into the living room of the Mystery Shack, where a TV was on, playing quietly an episode of that soap opera Stan wouldn’t admit he liked. He followed the light over to Stan himself, snoring on the couch with a half-empty bottle of pitt cola in his hand. He didn’t stay asleep for long, though; Dipper could see his aura register the presence of someone else in the room, and without opening his eyes Stan spoke:

“You’re a better door than a window, kid. Move.”

Dipper snorted and stepped aside. “”I thought you didn’t like this show.”

“And I don’t.” He changed the channel. “Wanna watch Ducktective? Might be in the reruns.”

Something struck Dipper as odd in Stan’s tone, there. He frowned, looked down, and immediately saw the problem: he was covered head to toe in blood.

 _“Oh,”_ he said, in a small voice. He’d hardly noticed this time.

Faintly, he could hear Stan rise from his chair. “I’ll getcha a cola, kid,” he heard, and then there was a squeeze on his shoulder. “Looks like you need it.”

“Wait, I don’t…” Dipper shook his head. “Do you know where Mabel is? I-I just, I-I kinda wanna talk to her, please.”

“Oh, sure, kid. She’s upstairs, go to her.”

That… immediately struck Dipper as strange. He hadn’t felt Mabel in the house; he cast his mind upwards, and found only quiet.

“What do you mean, Grunkle Stan?”

Stan stopped by the doorway. “She’s upstairs. She went to go to sleep after you left - I didn’t hear nothing after that.” He turned to look at Dipper, and there was something glinting in his eyes. “What, is she not there?”

Dipper frowned. The quiet upstairs… it was strange. Unsettled. In the attic, he could feel some kind of presence, but it was _masked_ somehow; every time he grabbed at it, it slid through his fingers like soap.

It wasn’t quiet.

Something was wrong.

He looked back to Stan, and saw him with a baseball bat gripped tight in his hands. Wordlessly, they started up the stairs.

One step. Two steps. Softly on the third - it creaked. Dipper’s glowing eyes cut through the darkness, and his ears picked up the faintest hum of a working ward. He could feel his human form melting into void as they approached the attic door; he had no heart, but he could feel black anger pounding through him. Their bedroom, their safe place, was taken over and obscured by some powerful magic, but he pressed his long claws to the wood and felt no resistance at all. Whatever was in there, _it couldn’t hide from him._

Alcor bared several rows of teeth, and burst through the door with a deafening snarl.

The first thing he saw: shadows. Humans wearing black. About seven souls were clustered around Mizar’s sleeping form; one of them was shining something blue at her head, and he flew across the room to clamp his teeth around its neck. He landed a bit higher than he expected - more around the jaw - but he bit down and felt it scream and break and bleed all the same. There were screams all around him, humans running for the open window, but Alcor savoured this moment, savoured the fear in its eyes as its blood painted the ceiling.

It had something in its hand, didn’t it? Alcor’s eyes darted to the side, but the blue thing was gone. Huh.

For the moment, that didn’t concern him. He saw the soul dislodging itself from this human, and caught it just as it bubbled out of his throat.

 _Ohhhhh, sweet soul._ Alcor couldn’t help but close his eyes and tilt his head back as he chewed it; it had been a while since he’d treated himself to one of these, and in the moment he couldn’t imagine why he’d ever deny himself the pleasure. It tasted like every candy in the world, every dish he loved, every time he’d ever been happy.

It tasted like a piece of heaven, and from the sound of the screams surrounding him, it seemed like he’d have a few more pieces tonight.

...or just a scream, it seemed.

A scream, and a yell.

“-snap out of it, kid! They’re gone! Dipper!”

Alcor blinked, and looked up at the human.

_“Dipper!”_

He opened his mouth. “...Gr̕un͘k҉l͢e ͘Stan?”

“Ah, there we go. Took you long enough.” Stan offered a hand as the void cleared from his skin. “See, he’s alright. Not gonna hurt ya.”

“Not gonna hurt who?” Dipper squinted as the lights turned on. “Where’d they go?”

“Through the window, but we got a bigger problem.”

Dipper suddenly realised the fear still watering his mouth didn’t come from any cultist. It came from one terrified person, and as Stan pointed to the corner of the room, he felt his heart stop.

“It’s your sister.”

Mabel was there. Mabel was staring at his bloodsoaked clothes, at his glowing eyes, at his huge wings… _like she didn’t recognise him at all._

“Wh-what the fuck is that, Stan?” Mabel flattened herself against the wall. “What’s going on? Where’s Dipper?”

And all at once, a horrible realisation clicked into place for Dipper. That blue light - the memory gun. Oh, no. _Oh, please, no._

“Mabel-”

“Don’t come any closer!” She flinched when he tried to step forwards. “I saw what you did to that man. I swear, if you hurt my brother like that-”

“I _am_ your brother.”

“What?”

“Mabel, I…” Dipper looked down at himself, and back up at the terror in her eyes. He felt sick. “You don’t remember what happened, do you?”

 _“What_ happened?”

“The Transcendence? Bill dying? Me becoming a demon?” He pleaded for a bit of recognition, but all he got was fear. “You don’t, no… They wiped it all. It’s all gone.”

“What’s all gone? Grunkle Stan, what’s happening?”

Stan was like a statue. He sighed at Mabel’s words, and walked over to her.

“It’s… a long story, Pumpkin. How about we go downstairs and tell it over some pancakes, huh?”


End file.
